


Stealing the Magic Bullet

by seraphina_snape



Category: Leverage, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU of 1x04 Magic Bullet, Crossover, Gen, canon compliant (with only minor changes), parker is not entirely human, snark & thievery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 03:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1289482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it looks like Scott won't be able to get the bullet to Stiles and Derek fast enough, there is one other person Derek can call: a thief named Parker. (set during Teen Wolf 1x04 Magic Bullet)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stealing the Magic Bullet

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of my Parker Manifesto for a challenge @ [Leverageland](http://leverageland.livejournal.com/profile).
> 
> The story is set during Teen Wolf 1x04 Magic Bullet. For the Leverage timeline, it's somewhere in the Boston era.
> 
> Thank you to [theron09](http://archiveofourown.org/users/theron09) for beta reading this! ♥

"What?" Parker growled into the phone, glaring at nothing in particular. Phone calls around dinnertime always made her grumpy.

"Oh my God, please let this be the right number. Who even has a number that is all threes and eights? How is anyone not supposed to mix that up?" said a young voice on the other end. " It would just be my luck to get the wrong number _again_ , and let me tell you, I do _not_ need another old lady screeching in my ear about how late it is." 

Parker frowned. "Who's there? How did you get this number?"

"I'm Stiles," the kid on the other end said.

"I don't know anyone named Stiles."

"Wait! Please don't hang up! I'm calling for Derek," the kid said hurriedly. "Derek Hale? Please say you know him."

Parker's frown deepened. Back in the early days of Leverage Inc., when they'd barely been a team yet, they'd helped a brother-sister pair, Derek and Laura Hale, out of a situation in Chicago. She'd given them her number because traveling werewolves sometimes ran into problems and she didn't want them to have no one to call. She hadn't had anyone to call when her brother died and ended up in one bad situation after the other. Giving these two - who'd lost their entire family - a safety net, someone to call to keep them from landing in the same kind of bad situations… well, that was what the whole Leverage thing was all about, wasn't it?

"Hello? Are you still there?"

"I know a Derek Hale," Parker said. "Early twenties, dark hair, muscles. Angry eyebrows." 

"Oh, good, you know him," the kid said, letting out a relieved sigh. "Because we totally need your help. Derek isn't looking too hot right now. There was this woman, Allison's aunt, and she shot him! And now he's deathly pale and there are black veins growing on his arm and did I mention he smells like death? I could be sniffing a dead skunk and it would probably still smell better than Derek."

"Right," Parker said, thoughts racing. Derek Hale had been shot with wolfsbane during a run-in with Hunters. That was bad – he could die before they got the cure to him. "Where are you?" she asked. 

"The vet's office – don't even ask; it wasn't my idea," the kid said, a faint note of derision in his voice. 

"I meant what city, kid," Parker snapped.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he said, sounding sheepish. "Small town in Northern California called Beacon Hills. You've probably never--"

"I'm in the city," Parker interrupted. "I can be there in twenty." 

There was a moment of stunned silence, then the kid said, "It takes at least 35 minutes to drive into the city, more in heavy traffic. The reverse trip isn't going to be magically shorter."

"It is if you step on it," Parker said, putting on her harness before she locked down her loft and stepped out onto the balcony. "Or do you have a problem with me getting there as fast as possible?"

"Nope," the kid said, popping the P. "You should probably know that they have a speed trap set up near marker 42 then, if you're taking the highway," he added.

"Gotcha," Parker said, ending the call. She slipped her phone into her pocket, grabbed the end of the rope from the winch she'd installed and hooked herself in before she jumped down into the parking lot.

#

Beacon Hills was a small suburb, close enough to be convenient to reach from the city, but secluded enough to be called "charming" and "intimate" in realtor ads. Parker didn't care about it one way or the other as she avoided the speed trap on the way into town.

The vet clinic was easy enough to find. The parking lot was empty save for a powder blue Jeep. Parker pulled into a parking space next to it and cast an eye around the place. The clinic appeared to be deserted, but this was where the kid had said they were. 

Parker let herself in through the front door, locking it behind her. The mountain ash counter top under her hand made her fingertips tingle, but she didn't have a problem passing it.

Derek was in an examination room towards the back of the clinic. He was in bad shape. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and his skin held a deathly pallor. A tourniquet was tied around his upper left arm, just above an angry red bullet wound. The skin around the wound was splotchy and a network of black lines were growing around it, spreading the poison in Derek's body.

The kid – Stiles – jumped when she walked into the room. Parker snorted – he was on high alert because of Derek's injury and yet he still somehow missed her walking in through the front door. How _precious_.

"Parker," Derek said. 

"Derek," she said back, in the same flat tone of voice. She narrowed her eyes. "How did you know I was nearby?"

"I saw you in the city four days ago. Just you, though," Derek said. "I figured you were on vacation."

"Hmm," Parker said. "Adorable." Vacations were for people who _worked_. Parker hadn't worked a day in her life yet and she had no plan to change that. 

"So, can you help him?" Stiles asked. "I don't particularly like the guy, but I don't want him _dead_ either."

"Gee, thanks," Derek muttered.

"Shut it, dead meat," Stiles shot back.

Stiles was adorable, too, Parker decided. He had large brown eyes and a buzz cut, his face dotted with moles. When he moved it was with the gracelessness of a newborn foal – limbs too long and no sense of balance. 

"Do you have one of the bullets?" Parker asked, cutting off what appeared to be the start of a free-for-all name calling extravaganza. 

"If I did, I wouldn't have called you," Derek said, rolling his eyes.

"Scott is supposed to get the bullet," Stiles piped up. "But now he's stuck at the Argents' house, having an awkward family dinner with people who would probably want to kill him if they knew about his furry problem."

Parker frowned. Only half of that sentence made sense. Scott, apparently a beta, had gone to get the bullet and now he was having dinner with the Hunters? There was some vital information she'd missed, but it wasn't important right now. 

"Give me the address," she said. "And warn Scott that I'm coming. I don't need a new beta giving me away in there."

#

Parker ran rather than taking her car. It was faster and quieter, and Parker really liked running. 

Parker wasn't sure exactly what she was, but she wasn't a werewolf. She'd just always been a little off. A little bit too fast. A little bit too strong. A little bit too ...Parker.

Not quite human. 

She didn't trust doctors, but a shaman had once told her she was a half-breed. Not human, not... other, but somewhere in between. 

Ultimately it didn't matter to Parker _what_ she was as long as she knew _who_ she was. 

The Argent house was large and several bright lights illuminated the driveway and the front porch. No doubt they had floodlights that covered most of the grounds and motion sensors that - hopefully - weren't turned on yet. 

As expected, security on the house was superb, but it was no match for Parker. She scaled the garage wall and crawled over the roof - what kind of people had a steepled roof on a _garage_? The only window within easy reach lead into a teenage girl's room. A perfectly made bed with a floral comforter took center stage in the room, but Parker's eye was more drawn to the basket of shiny knick-knacks and cheap jewelry on the girl's desk. 

Parker carefully listened for movement before she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

The room across the hall was a bathroom, the one at the far end the master bedroom. 

That left two rooms upstairs, and neither of them had what she needed. Making her way downstairs was faster if she went down inside the house, but it was safer to go back the way she came and try to find another way in at ground level. The voices echoing up from the dining room meant that there were several open doorways downstairs, and Parker had no clue where the staircase ended. 

Parker headed back out the teenage girl's window, but instead of crawling across the garage, she dropped down at the other side. Making her way around the back of the house, she carefully avoided leaving any footprints in the loose soil of the flower beds underneath the windows. The dining room was brightly lit and the light shone out through the windows. A quick glance confirmed that all seats at the table were occupied - good to know that no one was wandering around the house. She ducked down to crawl underneath the window and then continued along the house. 

Parker picked the guest bedroom to enter. She spent more time than usual on the window, since she couldn't smash it or leave any visible damage. Eventually, it popped open silently and Parker climbed in. The door was ajar and Parker carefully approached it. The door led to a short hallway with two doors at the other end. One of them was secured with an electronic lock. 

Parker's first instinct was that the bullets would be in the secured room. But the Argents had been in town for a while - why would they wait until now to shoot Derek? And Stiles had said that the newcomer - the woman - had shot Derek. The secured room would no doubt contain all kinds of weapons and ammunition, but this particular bullet was more likely to have come from the woman's private stock. 

And Parker was standing right in her bedroom. 

A quick look around proved her to be right. A black duffel bag was stuffed underneath the bed and Parker found herself very disappointed when it turned out to be exactly what she'd been looking for. The bag held a small, battered metal case containing rows and rows of shiny brass and silver bullets of different calibers. Stashed with the bullets was an old wooden case with a carving of a wolfsbane flower on it. It contained two rows of large caliber, brass-coated bullets. One of them was missing.

Frowning, Parker took one of the other bullets and looked down at the open case. A second bullet being missing would be noticed right away the next time someone opened the case. It would be proof for the Argents that someone had broken in, and they'd no doubt try to pin it on Derek. Especially since he'd survive the night.

Parker turned the bullet in her hands. She didn't technically need the _whole_ bullet - she just needed what was inside. If she could find a way to--

Parker grinned. She took out a travel pack of tissues and opened it carefully. She stuffed the tissues back in her pocket and upended the bullet case. One by one, Parker opened the bullets and shook out a small part of the wolfsbane and gunpowder mixture that she collected in the empty plastic bag. By the time she was finished, all the bullets were back in their place and she had a healthy amount of wolfsbane collected in her plastic bag.

Parker quickly put things back the way she'd found them and left the house the same way she'd come in. There was no time to waste - Derek's life was on the line.

#

Derek looked even more like death warmed over than earlier. The black web of wolfsbane poisoning had spread up his arm and was dangerously close to reaching his heart. He clung to the table, his upper body half lying on the cold metal in order to hold himself up. Stiles was on the other side of the table. Between them lay an electric bone saw. 

Parker raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, thank God you're back. Did you get it? Please tell me you got it," Stiles said, gesturing wildly. "Derek spent the last fifteen minutes growling at me, trying to convince me I'd have to cut off his arm to save his life!"

"Pfft!" Parker scoffed. She pulled out the little plastic bag. "Like there was ever a chance that I couldn't break into the Argents' house." 

"Okay," Stiles said. "Great!" He looked from her to Derek. "Now what? Do you eat it? Inject it? What?" He snapped his fingers. "Come on, Derek, I'm not punching you if you pass out again. My hand is still sore from last time!"

Derek looked up. He'd opened his mouth to reply when his eyes widened and he lurched to the side, vomiting black poison on the floor. 

Parker made a face at the sight of the black sludge. Stiles made a gagging noise and turned away. 

"Ugh, _what_ is that?"

"His body is trying to get rid of the poison," Parker explained. She piled the wolfsbane up on the table in front of her. 

"It's not working," Derek said, wiping his mouth. "It's in my blood - I need that wolfsbane, Parker."

"Lighter," she said, making a 'gimme' motion with her hands.

Derek dug his lighter out of his pocket and tossed it over. Parker caught it easily. 

The wolfsbane went up with a _whoosh_ of sparks and burned bright for a few seconds. Parker smiled.

Derek scooped up most of the ashes and - with a pained, drawn expression on his face - pushed the ashes into his wound.

The reaction was almost instantaneous. Derek yelled in pain, his eyes flashing an electric blue.

Stiles, who had been watching them with curious eyes, cursed when Derek lost his grip on the table and crashed to the floor, straining all of his muscles against the pain. Parker held him back when it looked like Stiles wanted to rush to Derek's side, but he just took a step forward to get a better look at the poison running backwards and finally leaving Derek's body in a small blue cloud rising from the wound.

"That was awesome!" Stiles said. "Yes!"

Derek shot him an annoyed look. 

"Are you okay?" Parker asked. 

"Well, except for the agonizing pain," Derek said, climbing to his feet

"I'm guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sigh of health," Stiles said. His smirk vanished when Derek glared at him and Parker rolled her eyes. She didn't have time for another round of Derek and Stiles hurling insults at each other. 

"I'm heading back to Boston in the morning," Parker said. "But you both have my number. Use it if you have to."

Stiles and Derek nodded. 

"Thank you for coming," Derek added. 

Parker smiled and grabbed her gear. When she walked out of the room, she could hear Stiles telling Derek that he wasn't going to drive his half-naked, smelly ass anywhere. Derek's angry response got swallowed up by the quiet darkness outside the clinic. Their bickering reminded her of Hardison and Eliot. They sniped at each other a lot and pretended they couldn't stand the other, but at the end of the day, they still did whatever it took to save the other. 

Parker climbed into her car and headed back to the city. In the morning, she'd catch the first flight to Boston and go home.

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really have a way to work this into the text, but in my mind, Parker's place is Derek's loft from season three. She lets him live in there when she's not in town (which is pretty much always). 
> 
> Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
